


Indris' Stories

by Sigilmancy



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2020-11-10 14:29:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20853320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sigilmancy/pseuds/Sigilmancy
Summary: Stories about a dragonborn undead hunter





	1. Decapitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Done for NaNoWriMo 2019

For the first time Indris was out on her own, taking one job while her mentor handled another. She could get in contact if needed, but some part of her knew that would only be as a very last resort, since she was being entrusted to do this and that was a big deal. Indris drew a shaky breath and tried to calm herself by running a hand over the bandolier of bells across her chest, finding some comfort in their familiar shape.

"Remember, when dealing with the undead you only have a few options." Her mentor's voice echoed in her head as she recalled the conversation about the best ways to deal with the undead. "Don't use fire, that doesn't kill them and then they're just on fire and coming after you. Necrotic damage is useless, and in some cases even heals them. Radiant damage is your best bet, but most other spell damage will do the trick too. If you find yourself ever without your bells or otherwise unable to cast and the fight has to turn physical just decapitate them. Most of the time that stops them, at least long enough to destroy the body through other ways. In the few cases that doesn't then you're still at an advantage because either the body will cease to function and the head will have to grow a new one but is defenseless for the time that takes or the body will simply flail around of its own accord and the head is still vulnerable. Destroy the head and that gets rid of them in every case I've seen."

"Destroy the head." Indris repeated quietly to herself, raising her head and looking down at the town that was spread out in the little valley below. According to the reports her mentor had received the town was experiencing an undead issue that started after they had killed one of their own, a woman suspected of harming the townsfolk. The letters did not indicate any wrongdoing by the people other than defense of themselves against evil, but her mentor knew better than to take it at face value and sent Indris out as a test of her skills.

Already Indris had uncovered the truth. From the town in the next valley she had received the names of those who had died since the undead problem began, and with those names she was able to conjure their spirits one by one. Seven in all, but two were nothing more than the victim of accidents. The other five told her the truth as the spoke to them, unwilling at first but compelled to speak no lies by the power of her bells. From what she had gathered the woman was a simple alchemist and herbalist, working on the outskirts of the village to help those in need but most feared her and only sought her out if they had no other choice. A recent plague that swept through some of the livestock had its blame put upon this poor woman's head, and for it the men burned down her house and chased her out, then beheaded her and left her body to rot at the edge where field met forest. She should have been buried in accordance with her faith, and when a few sympathetic villagers went to do so they found her body gone. Taken off by scavengers, they assumed, until the first man died. His spirit told her that he saw the woman, her head stitched back on to her body as she moved with an unnatural twitch, her mouth agape with a horrible screaming sound that it seemed only he could hear before she pounced on him like a predatory animal and tore him to pieces.

As far as Indris was concerned this was nothing more than justice, a woman having her revenge for doing nothing wrong and being murdered. She contacted her mentor then, unsure if she should move forward with the elimination since she was sure the woman would move on once those who had wronged her were taken care of. Of course rather than praise Indris was met with the usual harshness that had been present for all of her training when she was wrong.

"Do you really think she will stop?" The disappointment in her mentor's voice was clear as day, and Indris had flinched at the question. "You're not that stupid, girl. If it were just her spirit haunting townsfolk they wouldn't say her head was back on her body, she wouldn't be twitchy, and she wouldn't be able to physically tear them apart like a wild animal. Stop their hearts maybe, or just scare the pants off some backwoods villagers until they wet themselves while screaming for their mothers but not this. Someone out in that forest, alive or undead, took her body and put it back together and then put her spirit back inside of it and that is dangerous. Sure it will start with the folks that killed her, but when they're all dead she'll move on to the wives, the children, and anyone else too stupid to stay there. This is how entire villages get abandoned and then overrun with undead. So you go out there, you take her head off again and put her to rest, and then you go track who or whatever brought her back and take care of them too." Their connection cut out before Indris could protest or ask questions, and she knew what that meant. Some part of her still felt that this was revenge, but she knew her mentor was right and that an angry spirit shoved back into an undead body would keep on killing.

Now that she stood on the edge and was about to dive in to the village itself, Indris felt a sense of unease. Were those men who had been so cruel to an innocent woman worth saving? To her the answer was as clear as day, but she also did not wish to anger her mentor by delaying and allowing their deaths before she stepped in to help. If she couldn't track the woman down they might well die anyway while she was trying, and at least one had already been killed while she was doing her initial investigations. Maybe she would be that lucky, and only those who deserved it would meet their ends, but Indris could only hope for that as she took her first steps down the ridge and on the path towards the cluster of houses to start getting into the more dangerous aspects of her job.


	2. Corpse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Done for NaNoWriMo 2019

Three corpses littered the street; two townsfolk, brutally slaughtered by a woman brought back to life by unnatural forces. Not that Indris had any sympathy for the two men, they were both part of the mob that had burned the woman's house down, tracked her when she ran, and beheaded her. As if that wasn't bad enough they hadn't even given her a proper burial, just left her body to rot, which was why a necromancer had been able to get their hands on it and revive her in such an awful way. For the third corpse belonged to the woman, though it was already rotting and fueled only by the revival magic and the hatred in the woman's soul for what had happened to her. Whatever necromancer was responsible had sewn her head back on to her body too, but it lay separated once again by the sword Indris was wielding. For common folk a revived corpse was frightening and deadly, but for a trained undead hunter she was as insignificant and easy to kill as an insect. Of course Indris would be lying if she said she hadn't stood by and watched the woman murder the townsfolk first, allowing her to have at least one more piece of her revenge before she was put down for good.

Now, however, it was time to find the necromancer. Indris sighed to herself, pulling out a bell and holding it carefully in her hands as she stood over the woman's body. In a swift, practiced motion she swung and the clapper struck, letting out a single note before Indris placed her hand to stop it from ringing further and then tipped it upside down for the same purpose, waiting quietly. Slowly a grey mist began to form around the body, rising up like steam until it formed the ghostly image of the slain woman.

"Thank you." A warbling voice echoed out, the spirit looking relieved as it stared at Indris with hollow eyes.

"You are welcome. I am sorry your revenge could not be complete, but I also know that if I had allowed you to continue the necromancer would have made you kill more than just them. So I tried to give you at least this." Indris motioned to the bodies. "But now, before you move on, I have a favor to ask of you. Please, tell me where the necromancer is. I need to stop them, so that they cannot continue to enslave people like you." She was asking nicely, but another bell was being prepared just in case the spirit was uncooperative.

"In the forest. A tower, I used to see it when I would gather herbs. I knew....the man there. He is a good man, he wanted me to live with him so that I would be safe but I was foolish and said no. He brought me back so we could be together..." Her voice trailed off, her spirit failing because the body it had been tied to was no longer living.

"I see, thank you. Please rest now. I do not know what awaits you on the other side, but I know that you will not be judged for your recent actions. I am inclined to think you were a good woman, and so goodness awaits you on the other side." Indris slowly, carefully, put the bell away and lifted both hands in a motion of prayer as she chanted an incantation for a spell.

As the spirit faded the body was set alight, burning hot and fast enough to simply destroy the flesh and bones so that they could not be used for revival again. The bodies of the townsfolk she left be, aware that they would be buried in accordance with their faith and that would keep them from being raised. Town guards were already approaching, drawn by the use of magic and the light of the fire however brief it was.

Indris turned, having no desire to deal with them since they were all either directly responsible or at least had allowed it to happen without prosecuting those who had murdered an innocent woman in cold blood. Her focus now was on the necromancer, and on stopping him so that he would not resurrect anyone else because she knew her mentor would not be happy with an explanation of the man having only done it once to save someone he loved and if Indris didn't finish the job he'd come in and do it himself with a lot less kindness.


	3. Photograph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the Weekly Pet Prompt on Subeta, prompt Photograph

Indris sighed, sitting in the noise of the tavern and waiting quietly for her food. People stared, as always, whispering to each other and knowing she couldn't hear over the sound of others talking loudly. But she could see them, and feel their eyes watching her, staring. What was a dragonborn doing in these parts, let alone one armed to the teeth with a bandoleer of bells across her chest that were most often used by those looking to raise the dead. They were suspicious, and rightly so, but the woman didn't pay them any more mind as long as they didn't try to come after her.

Instead once the barmaid delivered her food Indris paid and tipped her well, and then sat in her own corner and kept to herself. Once dinner was done she stood and left, unafraid of the night and the things that hid in the darkness. In fact, she was there to hunt the things that took shelter in the places people feared. The same villagers that looked at her as if she might worsen their problem had no idea she was there to fix it, to track and kill the thing they were so afraid of but would not go out and do anything about because of that fear. It was a cycle, because if they would not eliminate the threat it would continue to sow fear among them and continue to prey on the people but then they would continue to be too fearful to do anything.

"I wish you were here, dad." Indris sighed, pulling a small book out of one of her pockets and opening it to the front cover where a photograph had been glued on.

Despite over twenty years of being in the book the photo had been magically sealed so it wouldn't experience wear and tear. It showed a group of people standing triumphant on a battlefield - two human women, one with long dark hair and one with short sandy hair, a warrior covered head to toe, and a proud white dragonborn. That dragonborn was her father, and the photo was the only thing she had of him. According to her mother he had left shortly afterwards, not knowing she was pregnant with Indris at that time, and no one had seen or heard from him since. But that was why Indris had become an undead hunter; her father was a demon hunter, and the two professions were sure to intersect at some point. Someday she'd be hunting the same thing he was, or someone would know about him and where he was, or maybe if she was lucky her fame would rise and he would hear about her and seek her out. Ever since she was old enough to know the truth she'd changed her last name, no longer using her mother's maiden last name of Walker she'd named herself Kibeth-Fang, a mixture of his last name White Fang and the name of one of the bells in her arsenal whose nickname was The Walker. Hopefully it would be enough, she prayed it was enough.

After staring at the photo some more and focusing on her father, Indris put the book away and stared up at the sky. There was a full moon rising, so she used its light to guide her out of the village and into the forest beyond where the problem was supposedly coming from so she could get started on her job.


End file.
